Be Still My Heart
by shizzical
Summary: DHr Draco has a heart, Hermione has a horrible secret, and together the two of them learn the true meaning of friendship and eventually, love.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. The End. 

**Author's Note:** Hallo all, I've decided to start writing fanfiction again... It's been like... ages since I last uploaded a work of writing to In any case, this story is a plot that I haven't really seen before, and I hope it's fairly unique I tried as best I could to be unique in the Harry Potter fanfiction genre 8D Pairing is D/Hr and the whole fic will be narrated by Draco. I will try to update as often as possible, but I have a busy schedule, so this may be anywhere from once a week to once a month.

**Warning:** This fic is going to be sweet, and fluffy, but it will also have angsty, sad moments and there are times when you are going to want to take me by the collar and shake me until I die. Please bear with me, I have a plot in my mind and pretty much nothing is going to change it. Draco is going to be extremely OOC, so if OOC isn't your thing, you may not like it as much as some. If you don't like the direction in which the fic is going and don't want to give it a chance, don't read it. It's as simple as that.

**Be Still My Heart**

_She looked so sad._

I watched her during meals, sitting at the Gryffindor tables with Potty and the Weasel. Everyday I watched her, ever since I first stepped into the dining hall way back when I barely understood the concept of beauty. She was always cheerful, smiling... if my heart wasn't so cold, I would probably be forced to smile too, just from the sight of her.

But that one night in seventh year, I looked at her during dinner, a secretive, sneaky glance as always, just to see how she was doing... what she was doing... who she was talking to. And the sight of her nearly broke my stone-cold heart. Her once happy brown eyes were red from crying, her once rosy red cheeks were chalk-white, her once reassuring smile had turned into a thin line, and even though Potter and Weasley tried so hard to find out what was wrong and how they could help her, she remained this way throughout the meal.

I must have been staring for quite some time, because Pansy had noticed the direction in which my eyes were focused. She had smirked knowingly, as if she thought I had been staring at the girl and sneering at her appearance internally. "Hah, look at Granger. Shabby little bitch, I hope something really bad happened to her because she deserves it. Being a mudbloo"

I interrupted her, just as she began to say the word. "Don't wish bad things on others, Parkinson," I said coldly, recieving a rather shocked and hurt expression on Pansy's face in reply. I don't know whether her feeling betrayed was because of my indirect "sticking up" for Hermione Granger, or because of my addressing Pansy by her surname, or because of the hostility in my voice, or perhaps all three. Nevertheless, Pansy stood up, tears threatening to fall from her eyes, and stomped out of the Great Hall without looking back.

Sometimes I wonder what possessed me to speak so crudely to a fellow Slytherin, a female too! I had never made any effort to do what was right or stick up for a... a _mudblood_ before. But something about her... Hermione... her innocence and kindness... convinced me that there was a better place than this deep, dark hole of a life I lived in.

After Pansy's dramatic departure, I found myself looking towards the Gryffindor table again, only to discover that Hermione was no longer there.

A year or two ago, had I seen Hermione in tears, I would have probably sneered at her and show her no mercy. It's hard to believe how much I've changed in the past year, but here I was, walking out of the Great Hall as soon as I had noticed her disappearance, eager to find her and see for myself the reason behind her distress.

It took me ages to find her; I even bumped into Potter during my search and greeted him with a "Watch where you're going, Pothead!" He had been rather distracted during our encounter, for his answer was an incomprehensible murmur where I could only make out the words "ferret," "ass," and "where is she?" Half of me felt rather relieved to know that Potty hadn't found her yet and Weasley probably hadn't either; the boy was too daft to tie his own shoe, while the other half of me was thrown into a state of panic as I realized that even Hermione's two best friends hadn't the slightest clue where she might be.

I found her a good half hour later, sobbing her eyes out in a dingy old bathroom; the one with that godforsaken ghost by the name of Myrtle. She looked up at me and I could distinctly make out fear and panic in her eyes.

"M-M-Malfoy...?" she stuttered, rubbing at her eyes with the sleeves of her robes, as if in some hurried attempt to conceal her tears.

"Granger," I replied with a nod of my head, watching her closely.

"I- err... what are you... this is... the girl's... bathroom err"

As I answered her attempt at a question, my eyes remained focused on hers. "I was looking for you." My answer was simple and clear, and probably freaked the crap out of her. After all, here I was, _Draco Malfoy_, the boy who had tormented her for six and a half years of her adolescent life, who had never spoken a kind word to her... here I was, being _nice_.

"W-why?" she asked me slowly, as if not trusting herself to speak.

"Because I noticed you seemed upset. And I was worried." She had a questioning look in her eyes as I finished my response, so I smiled. Not smirked, not sneered, but _smiled_. "I do have a heart, contrary to popular belief. I know you consider me an enemy, but as soon as I saw you leave, it was an impulse of mine to follow and make sure you were okay."

There was a long silence following my explanation, and I was beginning to wonder if she suspected me of some sort of scheme; I wouldn't blame her if she did, after all, I was being more un-Malfoy-ish than ever before.

"Oh," she managed, finally, "well... it's nothing really... but thank you for err... worrying... about me..." She smiled at me, that innocent, naive smile that I loved so much.

I smiled back. "Not a problem. I hope you feel better."

"Thank you."

And with that, I left the bathroom feeling oddly lightheaded. At the time, I considered it an after-effect of being nice to someone after having been a Grade A Asshole for the majority of the seventeen years of your life. But what I didn't realize until recently was that the reason I was feeling so strange was because I had just initiated what would prove to be the strongest friendship I had ever experienced in my life.

**-end of chapter-**

So what do you think? Good/bad? Should I keep writing or should I trash it and never pick up a pen and paper again of course, ignoring the fact that I type my stories as opposed to hand-writing them? Please review if you want me to continue; I _love_ feedback  
xo, shiz

**edit:** Thank you **Mrs.ChristinaFelton** for pointing out some grammatical errors for me! I think I fixed them ;D I noticed that doesn't allow two "-"s in a row... so since I use those quite frequently, sometimes two words are made into one and stuff... I guess I'll resort to just using one "-" from now on xD;


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